A Rebellion Is Easier To Run Than A Government
by Apollo Wings
Summary: Cousland has it out with Loghain and it seems there are no winners in this bout. A short that may/may not become longer if the muse deems it so.


Author note: This may become more than a one-shot but for the moment is is just this. This Cousland has wanted out for a long time now

Disclaimer: As we all know, I'm not the owner of anything in Thedas. Damn - I do wish I could own Loghain though.

* * *

The firelight of the campfire seemed to be dying down. Loghain poked it with a stick, disturbing the glowing embers, some flying into the stagnant air. That gained him a very cold glance from the elderly mage that was sitting by the entrance to her tent, a glowing wisp of light floating over her shoulder so she could read something that looked suspiciously foreign in print and quite well thumbed besides that.

He didn't need anything to meddlesome old woman. She wasn't the leader of this Warden group and from the fierce woman that did - it wasn't likely to happen until Cousland was dead as a doornail.

Loghain remembered the look she'd given him across the Landsmeet chamber, clad in thick leathers trimmed with bedraggled furs, a bow and quiver on her back, dual daggers that looked to be over a foot long each on her hips. Ready to fight if needs be, and the fire in Cousland green eyes said that it was a definite, not just a possibility.

He'd called her a puppeteer of a Warden King - how blind he'd been to the Guerrin fool. How Eamon was related to Rowan was a mystery of the ages, but perhaps it was that knowledge that blinded the ex-Regent, ex-Teyrn and current Warden to the threat of the man. Howe had seen the threat there - and had him poisoned.

For the Warden group to cure said poisoning and use the nobleman to their own ends, or vice versa as it now seemed. "We need to talk." He'd heard her approach, even as quietly as Cousland stepped, the woman still had a slight squeak in her boots that was audible over the crackle of the dying fire and the chirping of crickets.

"I assumed as such." He said evenly, not looking up. Even if he hadn't heard her, he still felt the tethering of the Taint between them that now linked the two ex-nobles to the blasted Grey Wardens.

She sat down, crossing her legs and glancing sideways at him, not hatred but something still volatile between them. Of course, with the assassin he sent watching them too, the drunken dwarf, the qunari giant and much to his chagrin - the Orlesian 'Chantry Sister'. He assumed the apostate in hardly any clothes was also watching but she was much more secretive over her glances. "I wished to say sorry."

That put Loghain out of his train of thought and he looked at The Warden with barely veiled confusion. "Sorry?"

"The word is pardon, and I suppose I should explain." She flopped back, legs still crossed and cuirass riding up over her flat midriff to bare an inch or so of pale skin. Loghain averted his eyes as a point of courtesy, no doubt he was still enemy of the people to everyone in the campsite. "I did nearly kill you."

"I nearly killed you." Loghain replied without missing a beat, as if she didn't know that. She snorted in an incredibly unladylike fashion.

"That I know." She drawled. "I meant by inviting you into my private camp. I didn't think the army I have hiding in the hillocks would like the person who's been actively ignoring the threat we've been fighting for the past year."

"You've hidden an army?"

"Of Dalish, Mages, Dwarves and the assorted peoples that just tagged along." The Warden hmm'ed. "I believe someone else here hid an army for a few years too, I was willing to take similar risks."

"Comparing the Blight to the Rebellion are you now?" He raised an eyebrow and looked back to see The Warden smirking. It boiled his blood for some unthinkable reason.

"Quite possibly. I do believe there's a saying about rebellions. Remind me to tell you what it is later." She shrugged, the grass underneath her shifting slightly. "But I'm sorry regardless. It's just as dangerous for you here as it would have been if I left you to the tender mercies of my army."

He harrumphed in some sort of agreement. He knew the last year was a shambles of bad decisions, not that he'd say that aloud. Some decisions he'd do over, time and time again.

"Anyway, I'm here to talk too. Consider my apologies as an olive branch of peace between two people fallen from great heights into the miserable ranks of Grey Wardens during a Blight." The Cousland looked up, smiling slightly. "I'm not the only one now you see."

"Some sort of punishment then for killing your fellows off and dogging your group for this year? I'm thrilled," Loghain snorted sarcastically, pulling off his heavy metallic gauntlets. "Or simply for costing you Maric's bastard?"

There was fire in her eyes then as she sat back up and adjusted her cuirass to not wrinkle. She seethed a moment. "First things first Loghain. You never killed my fellows off, the darkspawn did that for you, whether your intervention at Ostagar might have saved a single one and saved me the trouble of leading this doomed crusade then maybe I should have tried scaling the bloody tower of Ishal on the outside, dealing with the Ogre that was at the top, died as I set the beacon alight and put one of them in charge." She took a deep breath, her cheeks were pink already - anger coming out in huffs of smoking white breaths that curled into the cold stagnant air.

"And if that's a confession of having something to do with Howe slaughtering everyone in Cousland Castle then I'll give you two minutes to start running. I suggest to the east so you don't walk straight into my army and die by someone's other than my blade."

Loghain suddenly realised just what poor word choice he'd had then. "I had nothing to do with the killing of the Couslands." He said evenly, gritting his teeth together.

"I know. You didn't have a dagger ready to kill me when we met at Ostagar and there was ample opportunity for someone in league with that rat to kill me back then," Cousland put her hands on either side of her hips, her shoulders rising up near her ears as she stayed there, taking deep breaths and letting them go slowly as if to calm herself. "And if you think trying to dig at me through Alistair by calling him Maric's bastard will work you have another thing coming."

He realised what those sorts of words meant. Cousland had had an emotional attachment, possibly romantic to the lickspittle lad. Heaven preserve him but Loghain didn't care, people gave up attachments like that for the good of the country - if that's what she did when The Warden married his daughter to Maric's ill-conceived bastard. "I understand." He said quietly, not even realised the words had left his lips until they'd gone, irretrievable now.

"Oh you really don't." She put a hand on his shoulder and pulled the ex-Teyrn, ex-Regent and current Grey Warden to face her. "You don't understand in the slightest. I was left in a maelstrom of a Void when Howe slaughtered my family. And I mean slaughter. My nephew had his head crushed when I found him, my sister-by-law was naked and bloody from the waist down. I think you have enough brains to understand what happened there. My mother guarded my father in his dying moments in a dirty pantry to make sure I was safe in my escape." Loghain watched The Warden as she stood up. "I was left after that in joining some stupid order of warriors that could have killed me regardless. Then fighting a Blight almost on my own while the senior out of the two of us couldn't find his arse from his elbow and complained and chattered almost relentlessly while I did so."

He remained silent as she ranted, just watching the rogue pace as she spilled more of herself out. "I hated Alistair, I hated him with a passion that bordered on the sadistic, I cheered myself up in my lowest moments by devising cruel tortures mainly involving pulling the man's tongue out with hot tongs!"

"So why would you put the man on the throne?" Loghain finally said.

"Because, he's practically Maric incarnate. It took a while to see it, but the chattering became a sign of normalcy after a while, his grumbling a sign that there's somebody out there who's not some lifeless follower. He's noble and kind and if he stops the stupid jokes he can be intelligent." Cousland looked down at Loghain where he was sitting by the fire. "He's Maric. So saying his name in that sort of way would be disrespecting what memory you have of your friend."

Astute. Loghain looked away, hurt by those words in some ways and angered in more. "Maric's not just a memory."

"He was lost at sea. And like it or not Loghain, Alistair is the last living piece of Maric out there and despite not having a spare word with the King, he turned out almost the same. Regardless - why did you put Maric on the throne if you wanted it so much? If Alistair, as we've figured out is just like Maric then why put Maric on the throne when with enough force even you could have taken it? To spite yourself?"

Loghain didn't answer. The Warden was hitting raw nerves here. "After all this time, was hating Alistair the last thing you could possibly hold against him? You gave the man the throne and he seemed to be a good King of course. But you're a confusing man - you ignored him for until Queen Rowan died, spending all your time away from your greatest friend in Gwaren."

He looked at her, ice blue eyes narrowed dangerously and stood up to his full height, nostrils flaring in silent anger. "I did. For the good of the country." Loghain grit out, looming above the tall, frustrating woman.

"Rowan." She said quietly, Loghain closed his eyes, looking away from the Warden. "How could I be so fucking blind?"

"What your tongue young lady." He snapped out of habit.

"I mean it. How could I be so blind?" Cousland marched around him and stood in front of him, glaring defiantly up until she had his full attention. "You hated Alistair because you loved Rowan! For the good of Ferelden you gave her up for the betrothal to Maric, left them on their own so you wouldn't be reminded of what ifs... then when... when Alistair was born it wasn't just Maric moving on - it was disrespecting what you gave up!"

"You know nothing!" He roared. Cousland didn't budge for what it was worth.

"I understand more than you think." She ground out. "You were allowed to move on, get married and have a child but of course - Maric wasn't allowed because you still loved her!"

Loghain decided that was enough of it and using the stars above him, started to walk briskly toward the east. At least then he could possibly walk into his death. It was something he'd carry for a long time, and this was probably what he'd carry forever here. This was her punishment. Not making him a Grey Warden, not even marrying Anora to Maric's bastard. It was reminding him of this and making him live with that for the rest of his life.

Even making sure he stayed alive so he could remember.

"You'll be back!" She shouted.

"I doubt it!" He shouted back at Cousland.

"It's in your blood now! Try as hard as you like but you'll stumble either into Wardens or darkspawn." That stopped him in his tracks and he turned around.

"What have you done girl?" He demanded.

"I made you a Grey Warden. Try as you might Loghain but you're in the same tainted boat as me, decidedly going to die soon against monsters. Do you like it?" She spat the last bit out then smirked as if she'd won some great prize. "I sure don't."

"If I'm completely honest I probably deserve monsters," he said. "And if you've finished your tirade I bid you goodnight!"

"You deserve monsters?" He heard the quizzical statement behind him as he went toward the tent he'd pitched near the edge of the encampment. "_You deserve monsters?_ Loghain, you deserve what comes from your own problems and bloody stubborn thinking! But if you deserve monsters then so do I by that thinking!"

He turned about and narrowed his eyes at the Warden that had beaten him rather soundly at the Landsmeet, a feat he'd never thought possible before. Not that he was infallible, but it was one person, a young one at that and if he was frankly honest, he'd just not seen the possibility. She looked ready to draw blades again at any given moment. He might have relished it - if just to finally lose this horrid existence as it stood now. "What do you want Loghain?" She changed her tune to some extent, making it softer and losing some of the tension that was corded in her body.

"What do I want?" Loghain stated incredulously. "What an odd question."

"Well? Whatever you want is obviously what you deserve you pigheaded... argh." She turned away and kicked a stick into the embers of the campfire. It popped and crackled in the renewed flames while he pondered what she'd said.

"I want to go to a war council, and find no empty seats. I want a map, and a border I can clearly defend. I never want to lose another person again." Loghain's own honesty shocked himself and he pursed his lips into a grim line.

"But don't you see. I want that. I want to defend this country as much as any other bastard that can swing a sword. And I've been doing it. You called me an Orlesian agent, dallying about with foreign powers when in fact I've garnered allies with no territorial claims on Ferelden in the slightest. In fact, the dwarves should, or rather I would be pushing the darkspawn back underground and reclaiming the thaigs they lost! Instead they're marching on a surface, under a sky they've never seen because of me and wanting to defend this country against a force that you'd think no mortal could possibly defend against. The Dalish elves would rather run off and be far away from all this taint! The mages were always neutral and instead they're allowed out of their gilded prison with no hope of recognition if they live through this! I'm defending this country. So I guess I've got what you deserve and you've been dragged into the same thing."

It rocked his world then. Made even himself see what had been happening but from a different view. "You're saying you've forced me into defending Ferelden?" He rumbled.

Cousland turned about again, bathed in shadows over her face and looking a lot older than previously thought. Her eyes were bright though. "I have Loghain. The Wardens... have a horrid secret that Riordan told me. I thought by conscripting the Hero of River Dane I would get volunteers because there's no hope of me ever managing the feat."

"Do tell. I loathe the secrecy of your order." He snarked.

"Our order now," The Warden sighed. "To kill the Archdemon... in the final blow - requires the sacrifice of the life of the Warden that does it. The soul of the Archdemon travels through the Taint shared and kills them both. If anyone other than a Warden kills the Archdemon then the soul of the Old God simply travels to the nearest darkspawn and it respawns into another Archdemon - the whole cycle starting again. Why of course, could even the Tevinter Imperium not slay a single dragon during it's highest days? There was something more to it. A shame... but killing dragons is dangerous business when they're surrounded by creatures that share a single mind that will throw some a fodder at you just to wear you down and hopefully one will get a luck, fatal blow."

Cousland looked morosely at the ground. "So I thought - Loghain still has supporters. Some heroes never fade in the eyes of some. If that gives me volunteers into this suicidal mission then thank the Maker for it because the Blight could be ended if I fall."

"But no volunteers came, you lost Maric's bastard and you're stuck with me." Loghain uttered.

"Some things aren't so bad. Our duel was a close thing - I was half dead on my feet near when you yielded. But you're a Warden now, with our added stamina and strength. Out of the two of us if anyone has a chance at that Archdemon, you will. Redeem your name killing it and dying for all I care, I'm not likely to even live as far as seeing it happen."

The Warden walked away then towards her own tent, kicking off her boots at the entrance and stepping inside. "Are you going to stand outside all night?" She said from within.

Loghain considered his options, considered that out of himself, a starved Orlesian and Cousland - one of them would never see the Archdemon fall at least - if not all of them. Three Wardens left against the Archdemon. It sounded pitiful even if Cousland had armies. Then his options with going into the tent of a young woman. A young woman who was being watched, even secretly by her companions for better use of the word. Mercenaries was more apt a term.

What did Loghain have left to lose really? He picked his gauntlets up from the floor and pushed the tent flap open, striding into what looked like a war council.

A trestle table with fold out chairs around it dominated the room, a Dalish elf from the tattoos, a mage from the ornate robes, a dwarf with heavy plate on and a Knight sporting Redcliffe colours were all seated, drinking steaming tankards of strong smelling cider. "Good evening?" He tried.

"This is my war council. You wanted one, I have a spare seat. Sit." Cousland motioned to the spare fold out seat where a tankard was steaming in front of it as well as a plate of sliced sausages.

As he sat he looked over the table, ignoring the four people glaring at him or the Warden that was staring just as intently as himself. Over it, was a map of Ferelden, in minute details for towns and villages as well as major landmarks.

The thing that made him wonder was what looked like a dark tea stain extending from the vastly uncharted Korcari Wilds, upwards over the Lothering Bannorn, covering West Hills, having hit South Reach. "It's how much land the darkspawn have taken from us if you hadn't guessed. Roughly fifty thousand people either fled or died to try and push them back from Lothering, West Hills and South Reach alone." Cousland said, placing her own tankard down on the edge of the trestle table and leaning over it. "I've had half the dwarven army as a western prong attacking from Redcliffe direction, probing into the horde when they can and retreating to a safe line. The Dalish have had half still in the Brecillian Forest in the east, defending for the most part - the darkspawn from going unhindered through the Forest toward Denerim. The Mages are split, the Dalish have their own mages, I have thirty with the dwarven army in the west, and the rest remain with me. Most are from Jainen rather than Kinloch Hold but we'll not go into semantics there."

"Word through the Fade from the western dwarves in the horde is attacking more fervently toward them," The dark-skinned, possibly Rivaini mage seated spoke, pointing out where Cousland has secreted half the dwarven army in the west. "But the Dalish mages report lessened attacks in the east."

"Then we move west - they're sighted toward..." Cousland drew her finger over the map in a direct line between her two pronged attack. "Redcliffe. Get the dwarves to push back to there, the Dalish with us follow, the dwarves with us go toward the eastern prong. If this is misdirection like a few months ago I want to be prepared."

Loghain was impressed, even by most standards the girl was a good tactician. And hid a war council in her tent to boot.

"The mages?" The Rivaini coloured mage asked.

"Follow." Cousland sat down, picking up her tankard and taking a drink. "Is this council to your liking Loghain? I couldn't bring Uldred to join us like last time but I had to kill him."

"May the bastard rot in the Void." The mage growled, picking up his tankard.

Loghain harrumphed non-committally. "I would put a northern prong in there." He said.

"And what good would that do? Maybe it wouldn't charge?" The knight in Redcliffe tabard snorted. Loghain didn't conceal the fact he'd not charged, but he wasn't going to stand some knight just saying that. He glowered.

"The darkspawn saw to the King's death Ser Perth. And my signal was late because of darkspawn infiltrating the tower itself." Cousland said firmly. Loghain didn't know what to make of her. One moment she was at his throat and almost ready to draw blades and the next she was defending him as if he were her best ally. It made little sense to the ex-Teyrn, ex-Regent, current Grey Warden. "Regardless. What forces could we place there without weakening what prongs I've already put in place?"

"There's the King's Army?" Loghain said dryly.

"The King isn't well disposed to the Wardens at the moment." Ser Perth levelled, giving him a thousand yard stare. "Something to do with conscripting a tyrant and slaver into the Grey Wardens."

"Alistair didn't go into the Alienage." The Warden added. "But yes, Alistair wasn't happy and I doubt he'd let his army free while Loghain lives."

"No crack about being a tyrant?"

"You did take the throne from your daughter, making her seem feeble and unworthy to rule - as was your right as a Teyrn of this country." The Rivaini mage coughed into his hand. "Not that we haven't been talking about this Landsmeet for the last four months amongst as as we searched for Dalish clans, liberated a Warden fortress from demons and hoped Arl Eamon would take his balls out of Arlessa Isolde's purse and get on with the task we asked him for."

The frankness of the mage was refreshing and he chuckled slightly. "Now now Stuart, Eamon's just doddering and power hungry. We used him as much as he's been using us," the mage snorted at that. "Ysabel? Will the Dalish be capable of holding back the darkspawn if they change and attack towards the east?"

The Dalish woman at the table looked up from the map, having stared at it long and hard without a word. "The Elvhen can hold against the forces of the Banalhan for a while, but whether an entire horde could be held off for any length of time will be the question." Her voice was lyrical, sweet even for someone with a recurved longbow at her back and nasty looking daggers sheathed over her chest. But the tattoos over her face were heavy, very heavy and must have taken not only a lot of time but a lot of pain to get done.

"The Redcliffe men will march with us then?" Cousland turned to Ser Perth.

"As always Milady."

"I've told you a million times I'm sure." The Warden at the head of the trestle table sighed. "No, Milady rubbish. My name is Helena or if that slips your mind then Warden or Cousland will suffice."

"As you say." Ser Perth rolled his eyes. "I was wondering, about joining the Grey Wardens? Some of the men expressed a desire when you spoke of strategy with us and told of the... sacrifice needed."

"The Elvhen in the army encampment were wondering also." The Dalish Ysabel added. "If we had Grey Wardens amongst the eastern prong and the Archdemon was heading in that direction it would give us a small chance."

"I thought it was a Warden Secret." Loghain put the statement in, judging by the blank stares given in his direction it was rather stupid.

"And the Wardens are too secretive. If Duncan told yourself and, or even Cailan about what we are to do should the Archdemon appear I doubt our late King would be so eager to stand in front of the dragon in golden armour waving a greatsword about. Would you agree? In fact, I would hope it would have meant that damned Revered Mother in Ostagar wasn't present and we could have had a mage light that beacon from a distance and actually won the battle then. Who knows? The end result is that these people in the room and senior officers have been permitted to listen to the secret."

Loghain just nodded in response. It was sound reasoning, and Wardens were much too secretive. "The dwarves are wondering that too. Ain't many of us not fought darkspawn in the thaigs and even then, we've been fighting the blighters ever since on the surface." The black bearded dwarf at the table put a hollow sounding, empty tankard to the table. "I'd even sign up if you want me."

"General Fellhammer, should you die I have to parley with a new leader to the dwarven armies. Now why would I make you a Warden?" The Warden arched an eyebrow. "The same goes for everyone at this table."

"Because you don't have a Warden Mage? Those papers we found in Soldier's Peak said you're allowed to recruit one Circle Mage per twenty Wardens and it said nothing about apostates so I do reckon you're free in that regard in recruitment." Stuart tutted. "I'll be available for darkspawn hunting for the rest of my life if you need me."

"And it would get you out of the Circle." Cousland took in a deep breath. "The rest of you..."

"Helena." Cousland turned to her first name being spoken by the knight. "I'll join too."

"You will not. If I have the Right of Conscription I want the Right of Unconscription too! Perth, you're one of the few Redcliffe men that doesn't look at me like I'm wearing a man's armour and parading with my father's sword with wooden dummies to attack. You are not becoming a Warden." The knight gulped and nodded.

"I'll go into the army then and see if we got any volunteers then." General Fellhammer stood up, dropping off his chair and picking up a fearsome looking double bearded axe from against a chest.

"I shall do the same. Come morning you can inspect them." Ysabel nodded primly.

"I'm sure I can scrounge up some willing mages if you get enough volunteers." Stuart added.

"And you can ask in the Redcliffe men Perth, but I'd prefer it if you don't join that number." The Warden said to the final part of her war council. They filed out the back exit of the tent and Cousland slumped over the table, reaching for the now cooled cider and taking a long drink from it. "I hate being a Commander. They all decided it when faced with a choice of me or Alistair."

"So what happened to this Senior Warden Riordan of Jader that had me conscripted?" Loghain asked, cordially enough considering that Cousland was the junior of the Wardens in the country before he became one.

"Content to follow and with the army in the hills. He...wasn't warmly regarded by a lot of the people in my personal camp."

"And I was?"

"Either way you'll get death stares, at least my fellow Warden gets the stare of their Commander back at those." The Warden shrugged lightly. "I do wish sometimes; for a soft bed rather than a cot, for a night not plagued by nightmares of darkspawn, for not to be hungry at all times and most importantly not to feel the sickness and evil of the darkspawn running in my veins."

Loghain nodded in agreement, rather than speaking it. It was a moot point saying how his blood felt thicker when the darkspawn blood had been drunk, how when faced with the monsters that had sprung in a small group he'd just felt a horrid dread overcome him and a queasiness in his stomach. Then a tingling in the nape of his neck as they got closer. Only killing the bastards didn't help. They still carried the same tainted blood. The tingling abated but the sickness and dread didn't leave. "You should get some sleep Warden. If we're inspecting recruits and marching to Redcliffe we'll need to get _some_ shut-eye."

"Very true," Cousland closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. "I want to know why no Warden other than Riordan showed up. Every Warden knows this is a Blight, every time they sleep they feel the Archdemon's presence. It's been four hundred years since the last Blight and it's the whole reason our order exists other than the eradication of the darkspawn between them and remaining vigilant for the next Blight. You'd think every Warden would be on the fastest boat to Ferelden as quickly as they could row. I know you shut our boarders but there are unmanned beaches that anyone could just saunter into the country by."

She stood up. "But I do need some sleep actually. I hope your tent is warm, Stuart is a keen wit with making runes and we have a dwarven enchanter that put a warmth rune in your bedroll. I don't think we'd have survived the snow elsewise."

"That's... generous," Loghain supplied. "Helena."

"That feels like the second time my name's actually been said since I became a Warden. I think it may be you know. Even Alistair called me Cousland and everyone seems to think Warden does suffice most of the time. I missed hearing my name you know." She furrowed her brow a moment then looked at him with a seriousness etched on her young features. "You're under Commander's orders to call me by my real name or so help me Maker I can leave you to Wynne's tender mercies."

Loghain paled inside at the thought of the elderly mage with the barbed tongue. "I see. Then goodnight Helena."

"Goodnight Loghain." She nodded to him, waving him out of the war council/her tent. He saw a side room in the large entrance flap that would be large enough to house a cot with a bedroll on it. He was tired though, and had many revelations today.

He looked forward to sleeping and seeing just what would happen when he opened his eyes. Or... on second thoughts - perhaps not. He furrowed his brow and put his head back into the tent to see The Warden still sitting at the trestle table, staring at the map and smearing diluted brown ink in a dropper over where she could guess the darkspawn where moving - or wherever this darkspawn sense told her they were. He hadn't been a Warden as long as she so he wasn't sure if they matured into the senses. "I forgot to ask what that saying was." He said without preamble.

She looked up and smiled for the briefest moments. "I was reminded of it when you said King Maric valued a man by the quality of his enemies," She looked down a the map and signed. "It reminded me that Eamon was hoping to put a Cousland Queen on the throne because he'd thought I'd be malleable to his plans - whatever they are. Maric said to me when I was young, about twelve... I was covered in mud and grousing about the gardens in Highever that I would need to act like a proper lady soon when the King passed by. He broke off his conversation with my parents and took me to the side, I was in awe of course, of how he'd driven the Orlesians out of Ferelden and how stupendous the man was. He told me he never did it along and that this man who grumbled constantly helped him more than he'd ever be able to say, but then he told me a secret too."

"Sounds like him." Loghain commented.

"He said, Rebellions are easier to run than a Government. I didn't understand him until I was older and realised he was saying that compared to what he'd done - what he was doing was more difficult. I agreed with him wholly. I find this hard enough, considering it as a rebellion to the darkspawn taking the country." She shrugged lightly. "It makes sense. So I didn't want to be Queen, and I didn't want to kill the man that helped King Maric more than he could possibly say."

Loghain was silent for a few moments, realising that the girl knew more than she let on, and even then took more meaning probably from a throwaway comment. "And why would Maric say that?"

"Because he said, I was only an heir if Fergus didn't begot any. I wouldn't be running either a rebellion that I was in awe of or a government - so I could be a rapscallion for a while longer if I wished it. My parents protested but he laughed it off and I came home much later that night with a jar of frogspawn and more mud than even the mabaris wanted to be near."

Loghain nodded. "He was wrong."

"Shame isn't it? But I didn't want to ever run a government, especially after running a rebellion. So if we keep this between you an myself, Maric changed both our lives that day. He made me realise that I didn't want nor like the idea of power and he saved your life earlier today."

"Goodnight Helena."

Loghain left the tent again, feeling quite different from the man that had taken the Joining liquids to become a Grey Warden this morning. It was... disconcerting. And liberating... but odd. He still wasn't looking forward to much but the demons of the past seemed quieter than before.

He realised why these people that surrounded The Warden followed her too. It wasn't honeyed words, it wasn't false promise of glory, it wasn't some dazzling personality, no riches or fame. It wasn't because she agreed with them so much that they felt sickeningly allied and agreeing with her. She just said what was needed to be said. Not nice things, just, very bluntly putting the truth in front of people and hitting them over the head with it. They realised that they needed that objective look into the way things were and it was strange that Loghain already found himself enjoying that... company and objectiveness The Warden seemed to have.

It was strange in someone so young, but it served the woman well. Loghain's palm hit his face and it hit him in a more figurative way too. What happened then? It must have been some strange sort of magic but someone who he'd been more than happy to have been disposed of not yesterday was quickly becoming someone he felt some allegiance to!

Damn her! Damn Helena Cousland!


End file.
